


we found each other hungry

by cedarmoons



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sub Solas, touch starved Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 10:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarmoons/pseuds/cedarmoons
Summary: We found each other, hungryAnd we bit each otherAs fire bites,Leaving wounds in us.Bull makes the world real.





	we found each other hungry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kinkmeme; op wanted solas to get a rimjob. decided to cross-post this b/c there is a WOEFUL lack of iron bull/solas on ao3. also wanted some iron bull practice, so, here ya go! enjoy. special thanks to playwithdinos, my wonderful beta and light of my online life.
> 
> check me out on tumblr @ cedarmoons if you want! i'm always taking prompts. :)

Bull’s scarred hands are gentle on Solas’s hips, and Solas almost bites his tongue when his fingers dip under the hem of his tunic, brushing skin. He shivers, and Bull hums under his breath, his one eye bright in the candlelight. Solas glances down, feeling his cheeks and neck heat with his embarrassment, but then Bull’s callused fingertips curve around his waist and he jolts, glancing up and meeting his gaze. The heat simmering in his eye makes Solas’s mouth dry.

“You feeling okay for tonight?” Bull asks.

“Yes,” Solas says, his voice steady for all his body is not.

“Hmm.” Bull leans forward, angling his head so his horns do not get in the way. Solas tilts his head back, one hand resting on Bull’s muscled shoulder and the other gripping his harness, breath catching when he feels Bull’s teeth scrape against a sensitive spot under his ear. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you,” says Solas, his heart hammering. Bull smells of sweat and musk and fighting; another day in the training yard, of course, but thinking of Bull in the training yard does nothing but arouse him, these days. He clears his throat in an attempt to gather his thoughts, because Bull is kissing his throat, lips dry and chapped and very distracting. “I—” His breath catches and his cock stirs when Bull’s teeth close over a patch of skin, sucking a bruise that he knows he will not be able to hide unless he heals it.

“You?” Bull mutters against his neck, gently prompting. His hands are roaming across Solas’s back, now, underneath his tunic and against his bare skin. The man radiates heat, but his touch makes Solas quiver. It has been so long—

Bull pinches his ass and he yelps, his hips driving forward into Bull’s, his hands tightening their respective holds. “What we discussed,” he gasps, dry-mouthed, light-headed. “Two days past. I—took care to wash.”

Bull finally leaves his neck, pulling back to stare down at Solas, a slow grin spreading across his face that makes Solas swallow hard, his cock twitching in his leathers. “ _Nice_ ,” he says, openly appreciative; the heat naked on his face, in his eye, already dark, makes Solas shiver. Bull cups the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss, rough and wet and biting, and Solas  _melts_ , unable to keep himself from pressing forward against Bull, seeking more heat, more touch, more,  _more_. When Bull’s tongue swipes across the seam of his mouth, Solas parts his lips, moaning when Bull tastes him.

The kiss ends as quickly as it had started, though Solas cannot stop his sense of loss afterward. Bull takes Solas’s hands in his and gives them a quick squeeze before dropping them. “Take your clothes off,” he says, voice low and deep, rumbling through his bones, “and get on the bed.”

Solas shivers and obeys. He takes care to fold his clothes and set them aside as Bull gathers what they need. He is sitting on the bed, naked save for the footwraps he is undoing, when he feels the bed dip underneath him. Bull grunts, and then there are hot hands on his bare back. His breath catches and he leans into the touch, his eyes falling shut, his fingers stilling in their task. “How is your knee?” he asks.

“Sore, but not too bad. Whatever magic shit you did yesterday helped. Blindfold today?” When Solas nods, the hands rove upward, briefly massaging his bowed shoulders until he groans. One disappears, only to return with a whisper-soft piece of silk that makes Solas shiver by rote, for it evokes many nights of pleasure in this very room—oiled massages, hot mingling breaths, sweaty, sliding skin. Bull waits for Solas to finish untying his footwraps before he ties the blindfold over Solas’s eyes and knots it firmly. Solas closes his eyes, his breath unsteady.

“Scoot back for me,” Bull says and Solas obeys, swallowing, trying to ignore the throb of arousal that has his cock erect and already leaking. He concentrates on the sound of Bull’s breathing and the madcap pace of his heart, pulsing in his ears and throat and fingertips. Bull directs him to lie on his back, his head and hips cushioned by pillows, and once he is, Bull takes both his wrists in hand, tying them together with a simple, loose knot and then hooking the knot onto a hook above the headboard. Solas is left stretched out, breathing hard, skin prickling in the warm air under Bull’s heated gaze.

“Damn,” Bull says, and Solas hears him uncork an oil vial. Despite himself, his breath catches, turning to heavy pants when Bull drags a hand over Solas’s chest, fingers tweaking his nipples, making him arch into the touch and groan. “Do you know how hot you look like this, Solas? All tied up and spread out for me? Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Solas licks his cracked lips, trying to think of a response to the praise, but before he can come up with anything Bull takes his cock in an oiled hand. Solas’s back bows, a strangled noise coming from his throat, his eyes flying open though he cannot see anything through the black silk. His hips roll, bucking into the steady pressure of Bull’s hand, desperate for friction. Fenedhis, he is almost undone by this touch alone, leaking and harder than he has ever been—

Bull’s thumb circles the head of his cock, and Solas cannot stop his cry. “ _Ah—!”_

He feels a hot coil of pleasure pooling in his pelvis, feels his testes draw up toward his cock, so close, so  _close_ , just one more touch—Bull snatches his hand away and Solas’s gasp sounds suspiciously like a sob. His hips buck into the air, bereft of touch, his cock hard and pulsing, so sensitive that he wonders if a single breath would be enough to make him come.

Bull hums again, and Solas instinctively turns toward the sound, his furrowed brow relaxing when Bull’s hand cups his cheek. As Solas catches his breath, embarrassment creeps in, flushing his neck and ears and cheeks. “I am sorry,” he starts, but before he can continue Bull is kissing him, gentler than last time, a kiss that somehow leeches the tension from his body and makes him relax once more into the covers.

“Don’t be. You said yourself it’s been a while.” He cannot see Bull’s expression, but he can hear the smile in his voice. “Besides. Do you know how hot it is, watching you get all worked up like that? Because of me? It’s fuckin’ incredible, Solas.” He hears Bull push himself up, feels his hands on his hips. “Can’t wait to see how you react when I’m eating your ass.”

Solas shivers, heat prickling through him. He helps Bull turn him over, allows him to be positioned so that his forehead is pressed against the pillow and his knees are spread wide, his ass in the air. Bull gives a groan of appreciation and palms his cheeks, and Solas jerks when he feels a thumb breach the cleft of him. “Relax,” Bull says, the rumble of his voice soothing. “You’re gonna love it. Can’t believe you’ve never done this before.”

Solas takes a deep breath, trying to focus less on the apprehension and more on the warmth of the man behind him, the calluses on his fingertips and the battle-scars he can feel when Bull brushes the backs of his knuckles down his thigh, turning his hands to knead his ass and the backs of his legs. He hears the bed groan, and Bull parts his ass, one of his shortened fingers drawing up his perineum and circling his entrance. Solas jerks, tensing; his lungs burn, and he wonders if he will be able to catch his breath.

The heat draws away as Bull sits up. “You remember your word?” he asks, quietly.

Solas wets his lips, swallows, presses his forehead further into the pillow. “Katoh.”

“Okay. You know it’s not too late to—”

“I want it,” Solas says, cutting him off, and Bull makes a pleased, rumbling sound, and then his tongue is on him, smooth and wet and—“ _fenedhis_ ,” he hisses.

Bull laughs, but then his large hands are there, cupping the cheeks of him, spreading him further. He feels exposed, obscenely so, but this is Bull and he has allowed Bull to do far more to him than this. But then Bull’s tongue brushes against a spot and Solas  _jerks_ , moaning, unused to the pleasure-sensations that skitter through him, running from his toes to the crown of his head. His cock is rock-hard, dripping, surely making a mess of the sheets but he can only think of Bull’s tongue, Bull’s heat, Bull Bull  _Bull_ —

Bull’s tongue circles him, rasping against a spot of nerves that makes his thighs  _shake_ , and Solas cannot stop the moan that rips itself from the back of his dry, hoarse throat. Had his hands been free, he would have bitten down on his wrists to stifle his sounds; yet he has neither wrist nor gag to muffle him now. There is nothing he can do to hide his pleasure from Bull. He is helpless to keep himself from spreading his shaking legs to allow Bull better access, from lifting his hips to rock back against Bull’s mouth, from embracing the bliss that builds in his gut.

Bull groans against him, and the sound vibrates through the very core of him. He licks at a sensitive wrinkle of skin, over and over, relentless. Pleasure rocks through him, coiling hot in his belly and radiating outwards, impossible to fight; the sound that escapes Solas’s mouth sounds very much like a sob. His legs feel weak, weaker even than in the aftermath of his awakening, and it is only Bull’s hands on his hips that keep him upright on the bed. He’s pleading with him, pleading to come, to let go of the pleasure that is building and building, but Bull gives no indication that he’s heard other than to redouble his efforts.

He finds another sensitive spot, one that makes Solas’s whole body  _tremble_ , and focuses his efforts there, making soft, sloppy sounds of appreciation that make Solas’s ears burn. His skin is too hot, too tight, too small for the inferno roaring through his body. Solas sobs, yanking his hands against his restraints, wishing his hands were free so he could take himself in hand, stroke until he spilled into his raw palm, and knowing that such a wish had been the reason Bull had restrained him thus in the first place. In this, he has precious little self-control.

Bull presses his tongue flat against the sensitive skin, then circles the tip of his tongue there, then licks until he finds what makes Solas gasp and writhe. Solas pushes his hips back, seeking more, and then Bull finds a combination of licking and circling that makes Solas see white even behind the blindfold, his entire body tingling with the force of the heightened arousal that slams into him. His testes draw up toward his body, and his mouth falls open, his sweat dripping into his eyes, soaking the black silk.

“Bull,” he manages to gasp, “can I—can I—”

Bull pulls away the instant before he comes, and Solas  _whines_ , tears pricking his eyes. “Please,” he says, and he is not too proud to beg. He can feel his cock, swollen and heavy, hanging between his legs. One touch and he would be gone, surrendered to the relief of orgasm. “Please, Bull—”

The bed groans under Bull’s weight and he is there, behind Solas. He puts his hands on his hips and draws Solas back against him, pulling their hips flush together, and Solas’s mouth dries as he feels Bull press his cock into the cleft of his ass. Bull grunts, one hand going to the bedspread to support his weight, the other curving around Solas’s hip to grasp his red and aching cock.

“Yeah,” he grits out, “fuck, Solas, you were so good, you’re so good—”

Solas’s mouth drops open and he moans, cock pulsing in Bull’s hand as he spends, shaking, his back bowing to the point of pain. He turns his head, blindly seeking, and there Bull is, mouth already open and slick, meeting him halfway in a sloppy, desperate kiss. Solas can feel cool air on his cheeks where his tears had dried, but pays them no mind.

Bull gently turns Solas over, positioning him on his back, away from the mess he’d made of the sheets. Solas can feel the weight of him, just hovering, and licks his lips. He feels Bull lower his head, lips brushing against a sensitive spot under his jaw, and he shivers, gooseflesh rippling down his arms. “Gonna fuck you now,” Bull says, his own voice deep, rasping.

“Yes,” Solas manages, and by some miracle he spreads his legs wider, his knees framing Bull’s hips. “Yes, Bull, yes—”

Oiled fingers, sweetly scented, press against his entrance, and Solas’s head falls back to press into the pillow, lips parting on a moan. His body feels heavy, weighted from the numbing release of orgasm, but Bull does not let him rest, does not even let him catch his breath. Abruptly, the blindfold is removed, and he blinks up to see Bull staring down at him, raw lust on his face, his eye so dilated it looks black.

“Wanted to see your face,” he rasps. “Fuck, Solas, you—”

He presses one long, thick finger into him, slowly, and Solas has to fight to keep his gaze on Bull. Their harsh breaths intermingle, hot on his skin, and Solas can feel the sheets sticking to his sweat-slicked back. Their kisses are more shared groans, in truth, all open, panting mouths and seeking tongues. Bull watches, rapt and hungry, as he slowly stretches Solas, working him up from one finger to two to three. Solas’s eyes roll into the back of his head when he feels Bull’s fingertips feather against his prostate, making him buck into his hand, his breaths coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

“ _Ah—hnn_ ,” he manages.He jerks his hands against his binds, and the headboard groans. “Please,” he says, and Bull frees his wrists with one hand while he fucks him with the other, his wrist twisting. It is only a few moments until his practiced, clever fingers find his prostate and  _press_ , making Solas shudder, his body wracked with hot bolts of pleasure every time. “B-Bull,” he rasps, voice raw and cock twitching, aching. “Bull, y-yes,  _gah_ —”

“Mm,” Bull hums, the deep cadence of his voice rumbling through Solas. “Look at you. You look so good like this. You’re so good.”

Solas can feel his ears turn red, from arousal and shame both ( _i am not good, i am not, please, don’t stop_ ), but all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled “ _hngh._ ”

“You think you’re ready for me?” Bull asks him, after several minutes of preparation. Solas nods, breathless and desperate, his weakened legs already lifting to wrap around the backs of his muscled thighs.

And then, finally, Bull’s oiled cock presses into him, the sweet, welcome stretch of it making him pant for breath. Solas clings to anything he can touch—Bull’s shoulders, his horns, his face—and all the while Bull is whispering the filthiest of praise, teeth tugging on an earlobe or scraping down his jaw, calling him good, calling him beautiful.

“ _Oh_ ,” Solas hisses, his voice strangled. He feels so full. “Fuck, Bull—”

“That’s it,” Bull whispers. “There we go. You’re doing so well, Solas. You take my cock so well. Do you know how gorgeous you are? How good?”

Solas’s exhale is soft, hitched, and he closes his eyes, his hands moving from Bull’s biceps to cling to his shoulders, fingertips digging into skin.

He’s hard again by the time Bull is finally hilted within him, hips flexing, the stretch and pressure of his cock inside him delicious. Bull lets Solas catch his breath, lets him adjust to the size of his cock—and then he starts to move.

He breathes Bull’s name, more a whimper than a true word, and the next thrust makes the bed rock into the wall, as does the next, and the next, and the next. Bull bows over him, one massive arm winding underneath his hips to lift Solas up, letting him get a deeper angle. He thrusts again, finding a rhythm, and Solas cannot stifle his cry.

Bull kisses him, his scarred lips soft and plush against Solas’s mouth; Solas moans, eyes falling shut, unable to focus on anything but the feel of Bull, surrounding him, almost overwhelming. Bull is touching him, everywhere, his chest against Solas’s own, his hands roaming over his back and hips, searing heat through his body. Solas’s breath comes in ragged, shallow rasps, overwhelmed with Bull’s touch and cock and sheer  _presence_ , and Bull is still kissing him, slow and gentle for all he is  _fucking_  him, all hard swivels of his hips and relentless pounding.

Bull’s cock grazes his prostate again and Solas  _writhes_ , breaking the kiss, senseless pleas falling from his mouth. Bull grins, one of his hands dragging down Solas’s back to grip and knead at his ass. Solas scrambles for purchase, lifting his knees, fingernails digging into the back of Bull’s neck where he is clinging to him. “Hah,  _ah_ , Bull—”

“So good,” Bull mutters, dipping his head down to scrape his teeth down Solas’s throat. Solas shivers, his muscles trembling from strain, and his mind goes white when Bull closes his teeth on a spot on his neck, sucking a bruise into the tender flesh. Solas moans, a low, gutted sound, unable to think from the pleasure as Bull’s cock hits his prostate again. Bull releases his throat with a wet sound and Solas swallows, whimpering, feeling Bull’s tongue against his earlobe.

“You feel so good,” Bull rasps against the shell of his ear. Solas can hear the ragged breath in his words, and feels some small sense of satisfaction: he is not the only one close to his end. But this small triumph is cut short when one of Bull’s hands cups the back of his thigh, pressing his knee toward his chest, allowing for deeper penetration.

Solas cries out, breath catching, mouth falling into a wide  _o_  of pleasure as his eyes roll back and his hips snap up against Bull’s, taking him to the hilt. “Greedy,” Bull grunts, and Solas cannot find the breath or the energy for a reply. He wraps his arms around Bull’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss, and Bull obliges, swallowing Solas’s moan. His thrusts come faster, harder, each one making the bed slam into the wall. Solas breaks the kiss again when Bull hits his prostate, his head falling back, a gutted groan leaving his lips. His eyes fall shut as pleasure rushes through him, bolts of arousal that make him tremble in Bull’s arms; his cock is so hard it’s painful, and Bull’s chest slides against him, slick with their sweat.

“Eyes open,” Bull says, and Solas is helpless to do anything but obey. “Look at me,” Bull grunts. His grey eye is black in the candlelight, his forehead and temples gleaming with sweat. “Wanna— _fuck_ , so  _tight_ —wanna see you when you come. Are you close?”

Solas nods, holding him closer, tighter, desperate for the contact. His cock is hard, swollen and red, leaking—it will not take long. “Please,” he rasps, slurring the words. “Bull, please,  _please_ , I need—”

“Yeah,” Bull says, and that is all he needs before Solas is coming in ragged gasps, holding Bull’s gaze as his cock jerks and throbs, spending what little he had left over his belly and chest. The world sharpens around him, throwing into stark relief the pleasure trembling under his skin, the slide of Bull’s sweat-slick body against his, the clench of his ass around Bull’s cock. It is only a few more powerful thrusts before Bull stiffens, his forehead resting against Solas’s, eye screwing shut as he comes, pulling Solas’s hips upward and burying himself to the hilt.

Solas wraps his shaking legs around Bull’s hips as best he can, lifting his head to kiss him, reckless with heady, spent lust and moaning at the feel of Bull’s seed inside him. His palm slides down Bull’s chest to rest over his heart, feeling the erratic beat of it as it slows and steadies. He stays still, catching his breath, savoring the sensations of the world around him: Bull’s heartbeat under his palm, the sheets against his skin, the sounds of their mixed breathing and the hiss of candles around them.

He had been studying the shards in his rotunda for several hours, yet in the back of his mind, it had not felt real. Nothing had, all day: not his conversations with Varric or Dorian or the Inquisitor, not his meals, not even when he had sketched out the panel meant to depict Corypheus destroying Haven. The world had felt languid, then, more like a dream than when he was truly in the Fade. But now, with Bull—

Bull makes the world feel real.

Bull opens his eye, his breaths evening out at last, and rolls onto his side, taking up what little remains of the bed. His cock slips out of Solas with a soft, wet sound, and Solas cannot stop his slight shiver when he feels his seed leak out of him. He does not look down at the mess they’d made, instead holding Bull’s gaze, swallowing hard at the desire that still simmers in his face. Before he can speak, Bull wordlessly lifts his left hand, shortened fingers wiping away moisture on his cheeks.

Oh. He had wept again. Solas opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but then Bull makes a harsh sound and leans over, his hand curling to hold Solas’s cheek as his lips slant over Solas’s. Solas kisses him back, hand lifting to grip at Bull’s wrist, and it shames him, how desperate he is for touch, for affection, when he deserves none of it, but Bull…  

Bull breaks the kiss, and Solas feels bereft.

“You good?” he asks, his eye never leaving Solas’s face. He waits until Solas nods, numbly, and then his thumb strokes Solas’s cheekbone and he wants to weep, he does not deserve this man—but then Bull is pulling away, sitting up with a grunt that draws Solas out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Your knee,” Solas starts to say, but Bull waves him off. He gets to his feet, staggering a little, but rights himself. Solas relaxes back into the pillows and watches as Bull goes to the washbasin and returns with the bowl of water and a cloth.

“I gotta change the sheets,” Bull says as he cleans them both, careful to be gentle when he wipes at Solas’s sensitive cock. He takes Solas’s wrists in hand, checking for bruises from the ties, and is satisfied when he finds none. Solas looks to his right, where evidence of his first release lies in a wet stain, and feels himself flush. Bull touches his shoulder and Solas stills, any thought of an apology forgotten. Even now, the feel of Bull’s hand is searing, making him shiver, gooseflesh rippling down his arms. “No big deal.” He looks back, only to see Bull is grinning, lascivious. “It was pretty hot, watching you get all worked up like that.” He leans forward and kisses him again, and the stiffness Solas had not known was building back up in his body melts. When Bull pulls away, he says, “I have some of that sweet shit you like. You want some?”

Solas nods, and Bull, dropping the soiled rag into the washbowl, gestures to an end table near a large reading chair, where a bottle of Tevinter 8:32 white and a plate bearing a single frilly cake rest. His breath catches and he looks back at Bull, whose expression is unreadable. Solas swallows, hard, and reaches for his lover, kissing him once more. It is brief, but Bull’s mouth is surprisingly tender against his own, and Solas feels tears prick his eyes. “Thank you,” he says, quietly, and Bull nods.

Solas stands, turning, and Bull takes the opportunity to slap his rear. Solas jolts, turning, only to see Bull grinning once more at him. He shrugs his shoulders. “Couldn’t resist. You have a  _great_  ass.”

Solas flushes but cannot keep himself from smiling, small as it is. He tilts his head, a wordless acknowledgement, and turns back to the wine, pouring himself a glass. He sips at it while Bull changes the bedsheets, and glances outside, where Skyhold’s courtyard is but shadows in the dark.

“You staying the night?” Bull asks, voice casual.

Solas stills. He has never stayed the night before; he’d always waited until it was late, until even the night owls who patronized the tavern were out, before discreetly leaving Bull’s quarters and finding his own in the middle of the night. But it is winter outside, the air bitterly cold even against a warming charm, and the world is solid under his feet.

“If you do not mind,” he says, looking over his shoulder. Bull shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. Solas nods and turns back to the window, ignoring the tremble in his hand. He finishes both his glass and the frilly cake before cleaning his teeth and extinguishing the candles. He makes his way to the bed, slowly, before he manages to slip under the new sheets with Bull.

“C’mere,” says Bull, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. Solas shivers at the touch, so Bull takes the coverlet in hand and pulls it up to their chests. Solas presses himself against Bull’s side, tentatively slinging an arm over his hips and waiting for Bull’s protest. When he does not, he relaxes, exhaling and closing his eyes, resting his head on Bull’s chest.

He listens to Bull’s heartbeat, steady and solid under the press of his ear, and shivers when Bull’s fingertips drag down the center of his back. “Stop thinking,” Bull mutters, his mouth pressed to Solas’s brow. “I can hear your mind working. Go to sleep.”

Solas nods. It seems they spend an eternity there in the dark; Solas listens to Bull’s heartbeat slow as he falls asleep, and succumbs to the Fade soon after, listening to the sound of his lover’s steady, deep breaths.


End file.
